


A Late Starker Kinktober 2019

by KassWritesStarker



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Bottom Peter Parker, Bottom Tony Stark, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropiate Use Of Stark Tech, Insecure Peter Parker, Jealous Tony Stark, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Tony Stark, Rough Sex, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Top Peter Parker, Top Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-16 11:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21269954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KassWritesStarker/pseuds/KassWritesStarker
Summary: A very late Kinktober event, filled with 31 different interesting and fun kinks and starring our two favourite idiots.All chapters are their own story and can be read as such. Kinks will be in the chapter title.





	1. Day 1: Angry Sex

**Author's Note:**

> Well, since I was sick for most of October, I'll be starting this thing one month late. I hope it'll be a nice surprise for all who thought that there will be no more kinky stories this year. Enjoy. ;)

“_Tony. _ Will you please tell me what has gotten into you?” 

Tony doesn’t answer; barely even hears the words that Peter is uttering at him. His ears are filled with blood, pulsating and effectively deafening every sound that the younger man is making. With a low growl, he tightens his grip around the boy’s wrist and pulls him into the elevator; snarling at the young couple that attempts to follow them. 

They stay outside, baffled expressions on their faces as the elevator doors slide closed. 

“Tony.” Peter is still trying to get his attention; gently pulling at his sleeve with his free hand. He looks so… confused, Tony is almost ready to allow his anger to fade away. Almost. The boy can act all innocent and lost but that won’t change the fact that the older man is _fuming_.

“Quiet.”, he hisses out between clenched teeth, punching the buttons of the elevator to get them to the desired floor. His grip on Peter’s arm doesn’t budge. “Just stay quiet.” Because him talking is what has gotten them into this situation in the first place.   
  
Peter frowns, brows furrowing and lips tightening but he obeys and stays silent as the elevator starts moving up. _ Good_, Tony thinks with grim satisfaction but he isn’t ready to let go of the boy; isn’t ready to lose the opportunity to leave a few marks. 

It seems like forever until they arrive at the floor with their room and the doors have barely opened before Tony is moving again with Peter, not really by choice, following close behind. The hotel isn’t what he really wanted; not enough glamour and the swimming pool they have is nothing short of _ atrocious_.   
It’s fine enough for the gala they are holding though and besides, Tony already has enough to complain about right now.   
  
It takes more time than he usually needs to find the key to the room, given that he only has one free hand but when he finally does, he practically slams it into the keyhole and twists it around. The door unlocks, allowing him to shove Peter inside. 

As soon as it falls shut (the loud bang it creates apparently waking the boy up from his trance), Tony loses his grip on the arm he’d been holding as Peter pulls it back. He looks as furious as Tony feels. “Alright, what the _fuck _is going on, Tony? I’m not your stupid toy that you can just push around.”

At his side, the older man’s hands ball into fists. Does the boy really not know why he’s so pissed; why he’s practically shaking where he’s standing? That’s not possible - he must have done what he did back there on purpose.   
  
No one was such a flirt by fucking accident.   
  
“You damn well know why I am pissed, Peter.”

Peter doesn’t look like he knows but Tony won’t be fooled by that. “I honestly don’t. All I know is that I was having a great time back there.” He huffs, hands going into his pockets. That move works way better with the jeans he’s usually wearing; it kind of loses its flair when being used with the expensive dress pants Peter is currently clad in. 

“Oh, I noticed that alright.” Tony can’t help himself; the frustration that accompanies his statement is an unwanted side effect. That should be enough by now to give the boy a clue about why he’s so angry but he continues to stare into confused brown eyes.

“Yeah? It’s called having fun. You should try it sometime.” He feels a muscle in his jaw twitch at the brat like attitude he currently has to face. He’s not even sure what he’s expected - an apology perhaps but not _this_. Not this backtalk. “If you didn’t notice - you pulled me out of a conversation. I was talking to someone.”  
  
“Oh, you were _talking _to him. Was that it?”, Tony replies, taking one step towards Peter without even noticing. “It looked like a lot more than just talking from where I was standing.” 

Surely, the boy has to be taking a piss at this point. As appealing as his innocent persona is, even he can’t be _ that _blind. Beck had been hitting on him since the very first moment he had introduced himself - and Peter did nothing to stop it; to tell him that he barked up the wrong tree. If anything, he’d seemed to welcome it.

Opposite him, the younger man lets out a disbelieving laugh, eyes growing big. “Are you kidding me right now?” Tony doesn’t answer that time, just continues to glare and try to stare him down. It doesn’t work and Peter crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I’m sure it did from where you were busy staring at the tits of those two blondes who were practically humping your leg.”  
  
It’s enough. Tony closes the remaining distance between them, pushing Peter’s body back with his own until the boy’s back makes contact with the wall, creating a dull ‘thud’. “Don’t try to twist this around. You know I never act on it. I never even think about it.”   
  
It’s true. By now, the unrelenting advances of random women and men who come up to him at every party, gala or whatever else he’s forced to attend are mostly just background noises. Tony doesn’t give two shits about any of them, has told Peter so in the past and so far, the boy has had no reason to doubt his word. 

Peter doesn’t back down, even while being cornered. He holds the older man’s gaze as he replies. “Oh but you are so sure that I’ll drop my pants just because Quentin smiles at me? I’m not the one with the playboy reputation who used to fuck _ everything _that moves.”

Tony stares; tries to process when Peter has started to swear so much. He frowns down at him. “Have you been drinking? Did _ Quentin _ buy you a drink even though he wasn’t allowed to?” It’s Quentin now, not Mr Beck - very interesting.   
  
“Of course he did. You know damn well that there is no way to enjoy these things without one.” The boy is right about that; of course, he is. Being stuck in a room with a bunch of pretentious assholes who think being rich makes up for being an awful human being requires some kind of booze. 

Still, Tony is too pissed off to agree with Peter; on anything.   
  
“Maybe you would have had a nicer time if you would have just stuck with me instead of running off.” Running off to talk to one of those snobs. Actually, Beck isn’t that bad. He, at least, has some kind of brain and knows what he’s doing. 

What he apparently doesn’t know however is to not touch what belongs to Tony and he can’t care less about how possessive he sounds (he knows he is, especially when it comes to Peter).

The boy shakes his head, his hands coming up to push against Tony’s chest. The message is clear - he’s done with this argument. What a shame that the older man isn’t. “I don’t have to stand here and take this crap from you; not when I had to watch numerous people trying to get you to fuck them in one of the spare rooms all evening.”  
  
He pushes again, harder this time but Tony doesn’t budge. His arms are on either side of the boy’s face, keeping him firmly locked between the wall and his body. “Fuck off, Tony. I’m going to go back down and enjoy the rest of the night.” The lines on his face are hard. “I’m sure Quentin isn’t going to be such a pain in the ass.”   
  
That’s it; the last fucking straw. Tony growls loudly, not even caring that there could be people in the other rooms; that they could be heard. “Oh, I’ll fucking show you ‘pain in the ass’.” 

He doesn’t even allow Peter the time to process his words before his hands snap forward, his fingers painfully wrapping themselves around the boy’s waist, causing him to actually let out a little yelp. Tony isn’t sure if it’s out of actual pain or just surprise.

He’s also not so sure if he cares. 

“What the fuck?”, Peter hisses, struggling to get out of the other man’s grasp as he’s dragged towards the bed. Now, Tony realises that he’s not really trying to get away because if he wanted to, he could without a problem. “Let go of me!”  
  
The boy doesn’t get anything but a head shake in return. “I don’t think I will.” As soon as the back of his legs hit the bed, Tony spins them around and turns Peter so that the boy’s back is against his chest.   
  
If Peter wants to be a brat then so be it. “You wanna be a little slut?”, he asks, voice mockingly soft. “Want to spread your legs for everyone who smiles at you? Then get ready to be treated just like that.”

The boy’s back stiffens and Tony knows that he’s about to say something; some snarky remark on the tip of his tongue but he’s had enough of Peter’s attitude and enough of having to listen to the bullshit that comes out of his mouth.   
  
The hand between the boy’s shoulder blades, pushing him face-first onto the bed keeps any backtalk in his mouth. Tony wastes no more time after that; quickly pushing down Peter’s pants and boxers, allowing them to pool at his ankles.

There is a little bit of resistance from Peter - he twists his hips ever so slightly in an attempt to complicate the other man’s efforts, he lets out short little breaths that sound dangerously close to being scoffs.

But he doesn’t get up from the bed; doesn’t leave the position Tony has put him in and if their fight just now hasn’t already made him hard beyond help, this certainly does it. This submissiveness. Well, not entirely but his whatever attitude; like he doesn’t even _ care _.

Tony is pretty sure that that will change as soon as he’s being fucked raw; as soon as he’s being split open by him. 

Finally, the smooth curve that is Peter’s ass is exposed to his eyes, his cheeks looking way better than they should under the shitty lighting of this hotel room. Not that it’s an actual surprise and Tony wonders just how good it’ll look once it’s dripping with his cum. 

“Well, are you actually going to do something or just stand there like the disgusting pervert that you are?” Peter’s voice is muffled thanks to the blanket he’s still being pressed into but his words are still understandable.   
  
Tony scowls; the free hand that has been busy until now with getting the boy’s lower body exposed now free to slap his ass. Hard. That earns him a howl but this time, Tony can hear that it’s more out of anger than anything else. 

It serves him just right. 

“Shut your mouth, Peter.” His warning is nothing more but a low growl, lacking any kind of warmth; any kind of comfort. If the boy wants comfort he shouldn’t act so fucking needy around people who aren’t Tony. 

“I get it.” Apparently, he doesn’t. Otherwise, the older man wouldn’t be forced to listen to his complaining at the moment. “This ain’t gonna be good for you if I talk and destroy the illusion of you fucking one of those blondes from downstairs, huh?” Peter turns his head and managed to meet Tony’s icy glare with a scowl of his own.

“Because let’s face it - you don’t have it in yourself to satisfy _ both _of them anymore. Gotta pick one.”

Nostrils flaring, Tony steps between the boy’s slightly spread legs, pushing them even further apart to give himself more room. “I said shut your fucking mouth.”

“Why? You can’t control me no matter how much you want-”  
  
The rest of the sentence gets lost in the sharp gasp that leaves Peter’s mouth upon feeling Tony’s slicked finger enter him. The older man is done putting up with this behaviour. He doesn’t have to stand here and take this when the boy has been the one who royally fucked up. 

The body on the bed is still for a heartbeat before Tony can feel him pushing back against his finger, trying to take them deeper. Peter can’t see his face from the position he’s in but that doesn’t stop Tony from grinning down at him, grimly satisfied by his neediness. 

“Want to say that again?”, he asks after he’s added a second finger, effectively making the boy on the bed moan out loud. Maybe he should go a little bit slower; take his time to actually prepare him but Tony is so pissed off; so fucking done with feeling like this - he’s never really been jealous before.

Usually, he’s the one who makes his ‘partners’ jealous. This? This rage he has to deal with right now? He fucking hates it. And that it has to be Beck - that stupid, arrogant piece of shit, just makes it worse.   
  
Tony doesn’t even allow himself to acknowledge that the guy has the smarts and skills to actually back it up; just like Tony himself. His stupid beard is also just some poor attempt of copying him. 

He’s brought back into reality by Peter speaking up once again; his voice laced with something that at this point can only be described as hatred. “Don’t feel so fucking smug - everyone could shut me up this way.” 

With a long snarl, Tony pulls out his fingers just long enough to make the boy think that this encounter might be cut short before he pushes them back in, adding a third one just for good measure.   
  
His other hand, which has been busy with pressing Peter against the mattress sneaks its way around the body and towards the boy’s face. The younger man understands his intention in an instant but doesn’t give in. Instead, he huffs; careful in doing so through his nose, not giving Tony the chance to sneak his fingers into his mouth.

What Peter doesn’t seem to get is that Tony isn’t playing by the rules anymore and when another moment passes without the boy opening his mouth, he forcefully pries his lips apart. The choked off sound with which Peter answers makes his dick twitch inside his pants. 

“This is the only lube you’ll get so you better do a good job.”, Tony warns, adding a third finger. It’s enough preparation in his eyes; especially with the way Peter is currently sucking on all of his fingers.

It’s not ideal but that’s exactly the point. Tony doesn’t want ideal - he has a message to get across and if it takes _ this _to do so, then so be it. Like he’s told Peter before: If he is so keen on acting like a slut, he’ll get treated just like that. 

Preoccupied with most of Tony’s hand inside his mouth, idly licking over his fingers, Peter can’t respond to the older man’s comment. He can almost _ hear _the boy contemplating whether it will be worth the trouble if he bites down on his fingers.

In the end, he decides against it and just continues to coat the fingers with his spit. 

Tony allows him to continue doing so for a few more moments before he pulls away both of his hands, leaving Peter completely empty for the moment. Not for long though, he idly thinks as he undoes his belt and pushes down his pants.

At this point, his cock is hard and begging for attention inside of his boxers and looking at Peter’s slightly widened and empty hole does nothing to weaken his need to fuck him raw. A low growl forces its way out of Tony’s mouth as the image of Beck’s hand on Peter’s arm comes back to his mind. 

But Beck isn’t here right now to see the boy like this; legs spread, spit no doubt drooling down his chin, completely bare and exposed and no shame whatsoever. No, it’s Tony’s eyes that get to watch him moan and gasp and spill all over the sheets. 

Only Tony - he’s going to make damn sure of that. 

Without his mouth being occupied anymore, Peter is free to open it again. “What’s the matter? Why are you keeping me waiting?”, the boy asks, head turning back to stare at Tony. The challenge this is sparkling in his eyes is clear. “Can’t get it up?”

Tony’s boxers are down and being kicked off before the last question is able to leave Peter’s mouth. Usually, it isn’t like that. Usually, they bother with actually removing all of their clothes; not just their pants. Usually, he looks in Peter’s eyes as he sends them both into oblivion. 

Not today. Tony is angry and thanks to this bullshit gala more than just a little drunk. Having to stare at the boy’s angry eyes might just be too much.   
  
Leaning over the body on top of the bed, Tony quickly grabs a pillow to shove it under Peter, successfully lifting his ass up to give him better access. Then, without another word, he slams into the boy, hands flying to his waist to hold him still.

Peter cries out, head dropping back down. Tony hasn’t prepared him as much as he usually does and there is no doubt that he can feel that. It doesn’t hurt too much; otherwise, his reaction would be very differently but still, it has to be less than comfortable. 

But it’s a damn tight fit for Tony and after this evening, he deserves that.   
  
His hand on Peter’s hips keep the boy from moving around. All he can do is lie still and take whatever the older man is going to give him - and Tony wastes no time doing just that. He pulls out just to immediately slam back in, making the body under him shudder.   
  
He knows how much Peter loves being filled by him; how much he enjoys getting fucked into the mattress - and while Tony loves bringing him pleasure, tonight he has something else to prove.   
  
“Mine.”, he growls out between clenched teeth as he continues to roughly thrust into Peter, eyes glued on the spot where his cock keeps on disappearing inside his hole. It’s a glorious sight; one he doesn’t want to live without. “You’re _ mine _.” 

No Beck; no random women. All Tony’s.

“You’re so fucking possessive.”, Peter manages to gasp out between short and choked of breaths. “I hate it.” Tony’s eyes lift to stare at the back of the boy’s head, to stare at the way his hands are twisted into the sheets as he clings to them.

His reply is low and rough - he sounds like he’s just smoked a whole package of cigarettes. “I don’t think you do.” At least, he’s never complained about it before. Sure, some little side comments every now and then but apart from that, nothing.

“I do. I fucking hate it, Tony.” This time, he actually sounds like he means it and maybe it should take the joy out of this but if anything, Tony just starts fucking him faster; pounding into him all the way and listening to the little cries Peter lets out.

“Well, I’m not keeping you, am I, sweetheart? If you want to leave you are free to do so?” One of his hands lets go of Peter’s waist to grip him by the back of his neck and keep the boy’s head down as he continues to move. “Why don’t you go back downstairs after this and ask _ Quentin _if he’ll fuck you too?”

Tony’s breath is starting to get heavier and it’s only partially because of his approaching orgasm. For the most part, it’s because of anger; because he’s left imagining another man getting to have what is his. 

There is no silence before Peter replies. “Maybe I will. I bet he won’t be so insecure about keeping me.” And then. “Sometimes, I really hate you.” If the comment earlier hadn’t been a slap across the face, this one should do it.   
  
But Tony doesn’t care - it just makes him feel less bad about not bothering with getting Peter off. The boy is overreacting and probably doesn't mean it like that but at this moment, the older man takes it as an invitation to just focus on himself. 

“Well, hopefully, he’ll be more bothered about getting you off than I am.” Before Peter has the chance to reply, Tony tightens his hold on both his neck and waist so all that comes out of the boy’s mouth is a gasp.

Tony doesn’t stop moving; doesn’t slow down; doesn’t change the angle to bring Peter more pleasure. His thrusts are short and powerful; forcing the boy’s body to move further and further up the bed until he has to pull him back down. 

The rage boiling underneath his skin only makes his orgasm more powerful. Tony falls forward; slumps against Peter’s back and lets out a low growl as he spills inside his used hole. 

They stay that way for a while; Peter continues to be quiet even when Tony pulls his hands away from his body. After a while, with his now spent cock still inside Peter, Tony starts kissing his shoulder, biting down on it every other second.   
  
His assault isn’t strong enough to leave hickeys no matter how much the older man _ wants _to do just that. Still, he feels like attempting that would surely get him shoved off the bed - or more. 

After he’s finished kissing every part of exposed skin he can reach with his mouth, Tony pulls back slightly. “‘m sorry.” 

Beneath him, Peter huffs. “You better be. My ass will be sore for days and you didn’t even get me off.” He still sounds mad but now, his voice is lacking that sharp edge that would cut through Tony’s heart if he had to listen to it post-orgasm. 

“I’m serious.”, the older man continues saying. He rolls off of Peter, his cock slipping out during the process. He winces a little; immediately missing the warmth. Once Tony is settled down next to him, he stares at the ceiling, counting the little cracks that are running through there. “I’m sorry.”

"I really was just talking to him, Tony.” Peter rolls over onto his back, making sure that there is still a little distance between them; that they aren’t touching. “And maybe he was a little nicer than the others but do you honestly think I’d do something?”  
  
“Do you honestly think that these girls manage to get my eyes off of you for even a second?” He can’t see it but Tony knows that Peter is smiling. The soft press of the boy’s legs against his own as they get tangled with each other confirms it.   
  
“I guess you have a point.”


	2. Day 2: Fucking Machine

Peter isn’t sure if his eyes are playing tricks on him right now. If yes, they are very, _ very _cruel; making him witness something like this without the chance to do something about it. God knows it has happened in the past - countless times.

Usually, it happens in the privacy of his bedroom though, the only place where he is able to deal with his shameful thoughts. It doesn’t make them any better but at the very least, it was much more acceptable to jerk off in your own bedroom while thinking about your mentor instead of the guy’s house. 

That could be interpreted as morally wrong - maybe. He isn’t about to tempt fate.  
  
But today, Peter has managed to keep himself on track. All he’s wanted to do was come over and spend some time with Mr Stark. The man offered him earlier to come around after school this week to test out the new drones he’s made for the Spiderman suit. 

Never being one to pass up the chance to work with his mentor, Peter doesn’t even wait 2 days before taking up the offer and making his way over to Mr Stark’s house. He’s so excited to finally see the man again, he even forgets to call but that’s alright - Mr Stark didn’t tell him that he has to do that before coming over. Surely, it’ll be fine.

FRIDAY lets him in with a warm ‘Welcome’ and Peter doesn’t even have to ask where the older man is. Still, the A.I tells him that her boss is currently in the workshop. When Peter asks what he’s doing and if it’s alright for him to go downstairs, her reply makes him frown. 

“I am currently not linked with the workshop due to the boss's personal request.” That’s weird - his mentor always has FRIDAY up and running around when Peter is down there; not only for the numerous safety protocols but also to banter with her. 

Without an actual confirmation that he’s allowed to enter, Peter finds himself struggling with what to do. Waiting for Mr Stark to come out of the workshop isn’t an option; the older man can easily spend days down there before finally resurfacing and coming back into the real world. 

At last, Peter decides that he’ll simply go down there and knock on the door. If Mr Stark won’t see him approach before he even gets the chance to do so, that is. The glass door and window would be enough to signal Peter’s arrival - unless his mentor is hunched over the worktable again, focused on whatever it is he’s working on right now.

By the time he reaches the bottom of the stairs, Peter is barely able to hide his excitement. It doesn’t even really register with him that, for the first time since he’s been here, the glass windows of the workshop are tainted, not allowing him to look inside. 

He tests the door handle to find it easily twisting open, allowing him to step inside. “Hey, Mr Stark! It’s Peter. I hope it’s okay that I didn’t call but I totally forgot.”, he explains while making his way into the workshop. “I really hope we can take a look at the new drones because-”

He stops dead in his tracks, eyes growing big, hand still on the door handle. What he’s looking at right now isn’t a drone. No, not at all. What he’s looking at right now seems to come straight out of one of his wet dreams. 

Mr Stark is bent over one of the many tables which usually isn’t such a rare sight. No, the rare sight is the pants that are pooled at his ankles and his head resting on top of his arm, partially hiding his face.

Oh, and the Iron Man armour that is standing behind the man, slowly fucking him.

Yeah, Peter is definitely dreaming - and he never wants to wake up; ever again. Tony Stark, glistening with sweat and breathing heavily as he makes the most erotic sounds that Peter has ever heard comes close to one of the few life-changing events of his life. 

Peter gets to enjoy this sight for a good 3 seconds before reality kicks back in, snapping him out of his trance and the walls come crashing in; telling him that it’s _ wrong _ to be here, to watch this.   
  
And then Mr Stark turns his head and Peter can’t help the loud gasp that leaves him. The man’s face is flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead as the moving suit keeps on rocking forward, pressing him against the table.

“Peter!”, his mentor gasps out, immediately trying to scramble away and out of his position but to no avail. Peter’s eyes follow a trail to where the suit has its giant hands on Mr Stark’s hips, effectively keeping him in place as the long and slick looking cock-shaped piece of it keeps on disappearing inside his-

Cheeks flaming, Peter tears his gaze away, letting it travel to his mentor’s face once again. Seeing the heavy rise and fall of the older man’s chest, how he’s desperately trying to get away from the suit doesn’t really help to keep his arousal at bay. 

It does quite the opposite. While Peter has spent a good amount of time _ imagining _ how Mr Stark would look during (well, not exactly a situation like this but something _ close _), it pales in comparison to the real thing.

“What are you- why are you- _ fuck. _” The older man’s eyes flutter closed as another low grunt tears its way out of his throat. “Shouldn’t be here.” is what he finally gets out and Peter can feel his cheeks colour as he starts stuttering out apologies. 

“I- I’m so sorry, Mr Stark! I came here because of your promise of us testing out the new drone and I forgot to call ahead and I thought it would be okay to… oh god. I’ll go!” This has to be the most embarrassing he’s ever felt and while he can’t speak for the older man, Peter is sure that the flush on his face isn’t just from pleasure anymore. 

It turns out to be a lot harder than Peter thinks to actually turn away and reach for the door. His dick twitching to life inside his pants seems to disagree with that course of action as well. 

“Wait!“ Mr Stark’s unusually hoarse voice stops him before he even starts to turn away. “Peter, wait. Just let me… Shit, just- FRIDAY, god fucking damn it - stop!” There is no response and from what Peter observes, the suit definitely doesn’t stop.

It keeps rocking into the older man, who in return continues to rock against the table and at this point, his hands are tense, fingers trying to find some leverage but it’s hard for them to get any ground on the smooth, metallic surface of the work table. 

Surprisingly, there is still enough blood left in Peter’s brain to allow him to explain. “Uhm, Mr Stark, Sir-” His mouth snaps shut when the older man moans loudly but Peter forces himself to keep going. “FRIDAY informed me upstairs that you’ve denied her access to the workshop so she can’t help-”  
  
“ _ Shit _.” He’s never heard Mr Stark swear so much and the fact that his cock reacts to it every single time, twitching and hardening, makes Peter thankful that he usually doesn’t have to deal with this. “Yeah, I- I remember.” 

He really doesn’t know why his mentor insists that he stays while he’s being fucked over a table. Clearing his throat, Peter decides that his eyes are best left focusing on the ceiling. “Mr Stark… I think I should go.”

Peter doesn’t _ want _to go; christ - he really doesn’t but if he’s not leaving very soon his hard on will be impossible to hide. 

“Yeah, you- _fucking hell _ \- you should. I’m sorry, Peter.” He begs his brain not to but Peter knows that it’s already memorized the way Mr Stark has breathed his name out; had memorized the slight hitch in his breath. 

The fantasy of himself, alone on his bed, erection in hand as he replays this moment is enough for Peter to almost moan - and as much as it would match with Mr Stark’s moans, he feels like that wouldn’t be appreciated.

“It’s alright, Sir. Really, I- I should have knocked.” The windows have never been tainted before - of course that had been for a reason. “I’ll just-” He motions towards the door even though his eyes are still fixed on the scene in front of him. God, he _ really _needs to stop staring. “Yeah.”

Abruptly, Peter turns away, wondering how on earth he’ll ever be able to set foot into the workshop again; into the house in general. He wonders if he’ll ever manage to look at Mr Stark again without turning into a blushing and stuttering mess.

As much of a blessing as this has been for his dick, Peter isn’t stupid enough to ignore the fear that is starting to make itself at home in the pit of his stomach. It’s not a nice feeling - fear and arousal clashing against each other as one tries to overtake the other and Peter worries that he might actually throw up.

But he’ll do so - if he does so - outside Mr Stark’s house. There is no need for the man to have to deal with a horny teenager inside his house. That’s probably, most definitely, the last thing the older man needs right now. 

Mr Stark’s words are so quiet; he doubts that even the man himself could barely hear them. But that was the blessing and curse of enhanced hearing. Peter is able to hear almost everything. “Stop the Parker protocol.”  
  
It’s enough to stop him dead in his tracks. What he’s just heard… it’s not possible - it can’t be. Surely, his ears are messing with him, letting themselves be influenced by his dick. This wouldn’t be the first time but god; never before has it been this exciting. 

He should leave; he really should - but the thing is that if what he’s just heard is correct then… then he has to take his chance. The suit has just stopped moving when Peter turns back around to face the older man.

“What did you just say, Mr Stark?”

He doesn’t know if Tony Stark is usually lost for words and flustering like this but somehow Peter has reasons to doubt that. It just makes him that much harder as he takes another step into the room; away from the door.

“Nothing!”, the older man answers a little bit too quickly. Without the constant moving from the suit, Peter can see that he’s able to step away from the table. He can’t let that happen though; he just can’t. “You’re right, Peter. You should probably go-”  
  
He ignored the older man’s indirect order to leave the workshop; takes a step closer just for good measure. “What’s the protocol called, Mr Stark?” The man in question squirms against the table but hasn't tried to step away from it so far; hasn’t tried to get the suits dildo out of his ass. 

It’s quite an interesting observation to make.

Peter begs his voice to stay as calm as he steadily walks closer and closer. “Why did you want me to stay?” Slowly but surely, he gets an idea as to _ why _but Peter needs to hear the confirmation; needs to hear the words he’s been denying himself to want to hear for the past months. 

The older man’s eyes flutter closed; his head turning away so Peter can no longer see the beautiful flush that’s covering most of it. It’s a bitter loss but if Mr Stark feels more comfortable talking like this, he’ll give him that. 

“Peter.” There is still a certain shakiness to his voice but now the horrible sound of shame has taken over most of it. “You really should go. _ Please _.” Peter almost does just that - it isn’t his intention to make his mentor feel bad. He just… it doesn’t matter.

“I’m sorry, Mr Stark.” The apology isn’t an excuse for his behaviour; that he’s refusing to leave when his mentor has told him to do so multiple times by now. “I just- I thought… nevermind.”

The older man doesn’t turn his head back; doesn’t look at Peter as he starts to speak again. “It’s okay, Peter.” There is a long pause; an audible gulp. “And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore after this.” 

And suddenly, it all clicks into place. The shame, the fear, the guilt, not being able to look him in the eye. Suddenly, it’s all there and Peter wants to laugh out loud; he really does. But he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles. 

“Mr Stark.” The man doesn’t turn around - and that won’t do. “Tony, look at me.” He’s never used his mentor’s first name before. Sure, he’s gasped, moaned and screamed it when he had been alone in his bedroom, fucking himself while thinking of the man but he’s never used it in front of him.

It does the trick - though Peter isn’t sure if it’s the use of his first name or the order that actually gets the older man to comply. Either way, he turns his head back, glassy eyes staring at him. 

Peter makes sure to hold eye contact while he gives the next order, not even sure if it’ll actually work. “Start the Parker protocol.” It does. The suit’s hands tighten around Tony’s waist and the man reacts in an instant, back arching as he starts getting fucked again. 

“_Peter. _ ” This time, it sounds like a plea and the younger man would lie if he said that it didn’t make him come almost then and there. “What-”   
  
“So, I didn’t mishear it.”, he muses, a small smirk playing around the corner of his lips. “Thought so.” One more step and then he’s right next to Tony, watching as the man gets pounded into the table by his own suit. “Why did you name it this, Tony?”

His mentor shakes his head, refusing to give a proper answer. Not that it really matters - Peter already knows why. 

One of his hand reaches out to grab Tony by his hair and the moan the man lets out at that isn’t something that Peter will ever forget. “Tell me, Tony. Why did you call it the Parker protocol?” He’s being cruel right now; he knows that but it’s just the right amount of teasing as well. 

Tony’s breathing is quick and irregular; his fingers clawing at the table. “Because…” He stops before the rest of the sentence can leave his mouth but Peter’s enthusiastic tugging on his hair gets him going again. “Because I want- I think-”  
  
He decides to help his mentor out; just a little bit. “Because you want it to be me?” It surprises Peter how steady his voice is even though he feels anything but. This is completely new territory; completely new and as exciting as it is, it’s also terrifying. 

The last thing Peter wants to happen is to lose Tony.   
  
Judging by the way his mentor gasps and rocks forward, Peter allows himself to believe that that won’t happen anytime soon though.   
  
The hand in the older man’s hair tightens its grip to the point where Peter is sure that it’s almost painful. His mentor doesn’t seem to mind. “Is that it, Tony?”

“Yes!” He most definitely doesn’t mind. “Fuck, Peter. _ Please. _ ”   
  
Peter leans down so that his mouth is right next to Tony’s ear, brushing it with ever words he whispers. “Please what?”

“Just- let me… christ.” With the suit’s tight grip on his hips, it’s almost impossible for the older man to move on his own but Peter still catches him trying to thrust forward. It’s a horrible idea, really but it’s a good horrible (if there is something like this) and before he can talk himself out of it, Peter is reaching down and under the table, palming Tony’s erection where it’s still trapped inside his pants. 

“You want to come for me? Then do it.”

Tony does and it’s the most amazing sight that Peter has ever had the pleasure of witnessing. His mouth forming into a perfect ‘O’, the gasp that leaves him, the way his body shudders as he repeats Peter’s name over and over.

It’s almost enough for him to make a mess of his own pants as well. 

Peter knows that they’ll have to talk about this in a second; that as soon as Tony is back on earth and out of whatever cloud his orgasm has sent him on, they’ll have to face a harsh reality.   
  
But right now, he’s perfectly alright with pretending that this isn’t the case; with stroking the older man’s hair and whispering praises in his ear. It’ll only last for a few more blissful moments but Peter is sure - or at least, he _hopes _ \- that they’ll figure this out.   
  
He’s nothing if not a problem solver. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I told you that I am a sucker for bottom!Tony every now and then? Cause I am.


	3. Day 3: Tentacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a little Superior Iron Man and his precious boy ;)

Tony isn’t above denying that he can be described as a rather pessimistic person; someone who doesn’t find joy in a lot of things. He’d also admit that there aren’t a lot of people that managed to make him happy in the past. Even fewer who are still alive. 

But this; this… view he has right now? Oh, that certainly does something to him. He doesn’t think of it as joy or happiness, per se but it’s close enough; enough to put a smirk on his face. Satisfaction - that’s perhaps the most accurate word to describe his current emotional state. 

Peter Parker; kneeling in the middle of his office, wearing nothing but his birthday suit. That doesn’t mean that he isn’t covered by anything else. No, the boy has around a dozen tentacles wrapped around his arms, neck, legs and _ more_, their silver colour blending in with his pale skin almost perfectly_. _

It’s a pretty sight; _ really _pretty. 

Tony allows himself to watch the boy squirm around, clearly not sure what to think about the situation before he lets his eyes drop back to the papers he’s currently busy going over. The pen in his hands taps against the smooth wooden surface of his desk a couple of times while he rereads the last paragraph.

There is a high pitched, almost needy sound coming from Peter but Tony pays it no mind. Then, with a slightly louder voice “_Tony, please._” _ That _gets his attention. Begging is always an easy way to distract him from his work; whether it is to ask for pleasure or your life. 

Both are satisfying in their own ways. 

Very slowly, he puts the pen on the table, waiting a moment until he's sure that it won't roll away - it's his favourite pen after all. Actually, Tony couldn't give the slightest shit if he lost it or not; he just likes making Peter wait a little longer. 

"As appreciated as your enthusiasm is, that's still _ Mr Stark _to you, Peter.", he answers, at last, head lifting to stare at the boy once more. 

The source of his discomfort is clear - the tentacles have wrapped themselves around everything but where he needs them most. 

His cock, red, angry and begging for attention is as hard as it can be but completely unattended as the tentacles slowly slide around Peter's hips, never getting close enough to bring him any relief. 

However, that doesn't excuse the boy's lack of respect towards him. "Your Stark might have been fine with being called 'Tony' just because you gave him that look with your big brown eyes but I'm a little different, bambino."

Peter nods eagerly throughout Tony's speech and the older man isn't sure if a single word of his has actually managed to get past his ears and into his brain. It wouldn't surprise him if none of them did. 

"Please, Mr Stark. _ Please. _" Ah, so the boy has listened to him - how pleasing. 

Leaning back in his majestic, leather office chair, Tony regards Peter with a calm expression, one eyebrow going up. "Please… what? You have to tell me what you want, Peter."

Well, it's not outright telling Tony what he wants; more like asking permission to receive it - but formalities aren't exactly what he should be focusing on right now, as funny as Peter's reaction to that might be. 

"I- I'm not sure." The boy's hesitant reply makes Tony chuckle. He's been like this; caught between shame, doubt and lust since he's been introduced to the wonder that are Tony's nanotech tentacles. 

Truth be told, the man hasn't designed them with this particular use in mind. No - usually, they only come out when Tony has to deal with a true pain in the ass and needs to show them what exact place they have in the world; in _ his _world. 

None at all. 

But having Peter on his knees, squirming and panting as the tentacles are slowly inching their way closer to his cock and ass might be just as nice to watch; maybe even better. 

"A little shy, are we?", Tony softly mocks the boy, not making a move to get up. There is no need for that - he's taken the nanoparticles for the tentacles out of his own suit. He can control them with his body; with his mind. "There is no need for that with me, bambino."

Peter nods once again and clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure. It works to a certain degree but there is only that much control you can pretend to have with your body glistening with sweat and your cock that hard. 

Tony is going to let him pretend for now. After all, what would life be without a little fun? 

“Now, let’s try this again.” Slowly, Tony lifts his arms, cupping the back of his head with his hands while he sits there in the chair, watching Peter. “What is it that you want, darling? Whatever it is, I can’t give it to you if you don’t ask for it.”

It pains him to say it - that much Tony can see. Peter’s cheeks are the deepest shade of red and he struggles to open his mouth. Maybe it is because he’s that embarrassed; maybe it’s because he’s scared that the silver tentacle that’s wrapped around his neck will crawl inside his mouth. 

No one can really tell. 

But Tony isn’t playing any games and he means what he says - either the boy complies and asks for relief or he won’t get any. It’s fairly simple.   
  
Peter lasts another couple of moments but the tentacle around his waist that keeps going near his cock, just to pull back at the last moment finally breaks his resolve. “I- I want them to... “   
  
“Yes?” 

“I want them to touch my cock!”, the boy whines at last; and even though his cheeks are already as red as they could possibly be, Tony swears that he sees him flush even more. But his eyes only stay locked on Peter’s face for a heartbeat before travelling further down. 

When he first met the boy, Tony hadn’t expected him to be this muscular and had been fairly surprised the first time Peter took off his shirt. By now, he’s used to the strong muscles that play underneath the pale skin.   
  
What Tony is also used to by now is seeing that glorious chest covered in sweat, rising and falling at a rapid pace as Peter struggles to breathe properly. It doesn’t matter though; his cock still twitches to life every time it happens.   
  
His own hand comes down to lightly palm himself through his jeans as Tony’s eyes finally take in Peter’s erection, how desperate it is for any sort of friction. “Well, if that’s what you want, bambino.” And then the older man watches as the tentacle around the boy’s waist slides down and wraps itself around his dick.   
  
The moan that leaves Peter’s mouth is enough to further fill Tony’s cock with blood; enough to make the man press down just the slightest bit harder as he continues to watch. “Is that good enough or do you want more?”   
  
Peter’s eyes are glassy and unfocused when he stares across the room to where Tony is enjoying the show. “M- more?”, the boy asks in a whisper but the slight panic in his voice tells Tony that he already knows what’s being implied right now.   
  
“More.” is all the answer the boy gets from Tony. He’s a little busy himself; stroking himself through the layer of clothing that still separates his hand from his burning skin underneath his pants and boxers. “Give me an answer or I’ll decide for you.”   
  
“Mr Stark…” Tony cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowing. The tentacle around Peter’s neck weakens its grip until it’s completely slack and then, oh so slowly, begin to slide down the boy’s back. Peter says nothing but he can certainly feel it and when his eyes grow big, Tony knows that he has an idea where it’s headed. “Mr Stark!”

The older man clicks his tongue a couple of times, the sound barely audible over Peter’s heavy breathing. “What will it be, bambino?”

“Yes! The answer is yes!” Tony smirks as he allows the tentacle to reach the swell of Peter’s perky little ass. He can only see the boy’s front from where he’s sitting and that just won’t do for the remainder of their encounter.

With a little remorse, Tony lets go of his aching cock and gets up, slowly strolling over to Peter’s kneeling form. He circles the boy a couple of times before coming to a halt directly behind him, gaze glued to where the tentacle is resting just above his hole. 

The smirk on his face widens until it’s all teeth even though Peter can’t see it. “Beg for it. Tell me exactly what you want just like you did earlier.” It’s cruel; he’s being cruel but Tony doesn’t care. This isn’t just for Peter - it’s for him as well.

And he wants the boy to say it; to voice his desire out loud. 

Just to give him a little encouragement, Tony commands the tentacle around Peter’s cock to tighten its grip a little and it does the trick. The boy inhales sharply, his back arches as he thrusts into nothing but air.   
  
It’s not enough stimulation; not at all and they both know it. 

“_ Fuck _ .”   
  
“Watch your mouth, bambino. You don’t want me to stop just because you can’t keep it together, do you?” Tony almost doesn’t notice his hands undoing his belt and reaching inside his pants but his cock is out before he knows it; hot and heavy in his palm. 

“No, please don’t.” The panic in his voice is adorable and Tony starts to lazily stroke himself to it, hips thrusting forward every now and then. “I’ll behave, I promise!” Oh, the older man is certain that he will.  
  
In the past, it hadn’t ended too nicely for Peter when he had thought to challenge him would be a good idea. Tony is certain that the boy still remembers that. 

“_ Good _ .”, he practically purrs out, hand speeding up. “Now, say what you want. Tell me how filthy you are, darling.” His eyes are still completely focused on Peter’s hole; and the tentacle that is _ so _close to it but still not touching him the way he wants; the way he craves to be touched. 

“I… I want it inside me, Mr Stark.” Tony lifts an eyebrow and the silver tentacle around the boy’s cock pulls on it yet again. “Holy-! I _ need _it inside my ass, Mr Stark!” That’s more like it; what he wants to hear out of his pretty boy’s mouth.

The older man gives him just that; the tentacle finally closing the remaining distance between itself and Peter’s hole and quickly sliding into it. Tony comes, his seed dripping all over the boy’s back just as he starts to moan out loud. 

Tony really loves their monday session. 


	4. Day 4: Mirror Sex

The tie around Peter’s neck doesn’t look right. Sure, it fits perfectly; as it should, considering the fact that this suit has been made specifically for him. It’s not a matter of how well it all fits him - the whole suit couldn’t be better. 

But it’s not Peter. He doesn’t wear suits; especially not ones that cost more than his whole year’s rent. In his eyes, he looks ridiculous - like a little kid playing dress-up with clothes he’s found in his parent’s wardrobe. 

People are going to laugh at him at this gala, surely. Peter Parker, trying to fit in with the high-class society. Everyone is going to have the time of their lives, looking at him and mocking his attempt of fitting in.

The worst part is: he doesn’t even _ want _ to fit in. Most of these people are awful, thinking that them being rich makes them something better - and he’ll have to talk to them all night. Fantastic.  
  
Why the hell has he agreed to go to this gala again?  
  
Just as Peter asks himself that question, the reason for it walks into the room. Tony Stark, dressed as neatly as always. His suit looks great on him; all of them do and it’s no surprise. After all, he is one of those rich people even though he’s missing that typical arrogance that comes with it. 

Yeah, the man _is _arrogant but it’s not because of his money - and he doesn’t act like that towards people who don’t deserve it. Honestly, watching him tear down some of those old snobs with nothing but his wits and charm will be the highlight of Peter’s evening. 

“Hey.”, the boy croaks out at last, hand going up to pull at his tie once again even though it’s only causing further damage to it. No matter how often he looks at himself in the mirror, it will never change.  
  
Tony smiles at him; it’s one of those smiles that not only lights up his face but Peter’s heart as well and it only makes him feel even worse for being so scared to accompany him to the gala. The man had been so thrilled to ask Peter; to show him off to everyone there.  
  
It’s going to be the first event they’ll go to since Tony has made their relationship public and as exciting as it is, it doesn’t exactly weaken the fear that is coursing through Peter’s veins. He _ knows _that Tony would never ditch him if this evening went bad but this isn’t his night for rational thoughts. 

The man looks him up and down, taking in Peter’s appearance before replying with a husky “Hello there, gorgeous.” and stepping further into the room, away from the door and towards Peter where he is still standing in front of the giant mirror. “Come here often?”  
  
The boy nervously hums as a reply. Tony is always so easy with his flirting, so nonchalant about it; acting like it doesn’t always leave Peter a babbling and flushing mess. “No, not really.”

His voice is shakier than usually but he hopes that Tony doesn’t notice it; that he confuses his hesitation with his usual shyness. Of course, the man does notice. They have been together long enough for the other to notice when something is wrong.

“Is everything alright?”, Tony asks even though he _ knows _that it’s not. He takes off his coloured sunglasses, a simple gesture that always leaves Peter with a fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Those glasses are his shield and he only feels comfortable enough to take them off around the people he truly trusts. “Is it the suit? Did Pablo make a mistake? Is it too wide? Too tight? Don’t you like the col-”

“Tony, you’re rambling.”, Peter interrupts his increasingly escalating monologue. “The suit is just fine; it’s perfect even.” There was no reason to bother poor Pablo about it - the man has done an amazing job. 

Tony frowns, lips setting themselves into a straight line as he comes to a halt right next to Peter. One hand reaches out to brush one of the boy’s brown curls out of his face. “Then what is it, baby?”  
  
The man looks so scared and Peter knows that he is already starting to blame himself for all of this - which is bullshit. It’s not Tony, it’s not Pablo, it’s not the suit. “It’s _ me_, Tony.” There - he’s said it. It sounds even more ridiculous out loud than it had in his head but now it’s too late to take the words back.

And Tony won’t be persuaded into ignoring what he’s just said. 

Judging by the look on the man’s face, he’s gone from scared to confused. “What do you mean? Baby, look at you. You’re perfect.” God, it sounds too good to be true. It _ is _too good to be true but hearing those words out of his boyfriend’s mouth is almost enough to make Peter believe in them.

Almost.

“I _ am _ looking at me. That’s why I said it.” He turns away from the mirror and Tony does as well until they are facing each other. It’s even harder to tell the man himself and not his reflection but he deserves that much. “I look ridiculous, Tony. This isn’t me. All your business partners will spare me one glance before laughing out loud.”  
  
Peter watches as Tony clenches his jaw, eyes becoming dark and dangerous. “Oh, I’d like to see them try.” He doesn’t have to say anymore; Peter understands what he’s implying but watching his boyfriend beat someone up when defending his honour isn’t going to cheer him up. “Why do you think they’ll do that; Pete? There is no reason for them to make fun of you.”  
  
Peter loves him; he truly does but sometimes, the man can be really blind. “Because I have never worn a suit this expensive before and it makes me come across as pretentious. I’ve probably never had as much money as some of those guys make in an hour and even though I’m with you, I doubt that’ll stop them from-”  
  
“Peter.” He feels Tony cup his face as gently as possible, lifting his head so he’ll look his boyfriend in the eye. “These people won’t respect you because ‘you are with me’.”  
  
Peter frowns. “Yeah, that’s what I was trying to say-”  
  
“No, they will respect you because you are amazing and breathtaking and smart as hell.” Tony’s eyes have gone from hard to unbelievably soft as he looks at the younger man. “You always sell yourself short and I honestly don’t know why.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say; or if there is even something to say. He wants to reply that he isn’t selling himself short; that he knows his worth and that it’s just not as much as Tony thinks it is.  
  
But the won’t like to hear that, no matter how accurate it is. 

So, Peter stays quiet. His boyfriend is still holding his face in his rough but comforting hands so there is no way for him to avert his gaze. Being forced to stare in the brown, deep depth that are Tony Stark’s eyes is always an experience which gives him the feeling that the man can see right through him. 

“You wanna stay at home?” That’s a question he hasn’t expected to hear. There is no anger in Tony’s voice; only curiosity. “I can make something up; say that I got sick.” His thumbs start brushing over Peter’s cheeks; like he’s wiping away nonexistent tears. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, baby - as much as I’d love to show you off.”

A laugh finally manages to leave Peter’s mouth at the cheeky comment. It’s still dry and lacks any depth but it’s better than the nervous breakdown he had been seconds away from having before Tony had walked in. 

“No, it’s fine. I want to do this for you.” The boy’s own hands come up and he lays them softly on top of Tony’s. “Besides, if we don’t go all those people will say that I chickened out, no matter what lie you tell them.”

Something flickers inside Tony’s eyes - it’s only there for the fraction of a second but Peter can clearly see it. His gets pulled into a gentle kiss before he gets the chance to ask about it; not that he really minds. 

Tony’s lips are barely brushing his; the touch light as a feather but filled with so much love and devotion that Peter nearly tears up. It’s those small touches that always get to him. Tony is all hot and smooth; sex on a stick that everyone wants a piece of.  
  
Enough people have gotten it in the past but not like this. They didn’t get to see this side of the man and even after months of them dating, Peter is still in disbelief that he of all people has been blessed to witness it. 

Tony pulls back after a couple more seconds but stays close enough that their lips brush with every word he whispers. “You sure, darling?”  
  
Peter smiles. “Yes, I am.” His boyfriend needs the verbal confirmation and it’s good that the boy’s voice has become steady again. Otherwise, Tony most definitely wouldn’t believe him - and Peter really wants to do this for him. 

Tony has given him so much and even though he never expects something in return, it still feels right to do just that every now and then.

“Alright.” He presses another kiss to Peter’s lips; this one a bit longer. “Then allow me to do something for you as well.” Tony leaves him no time to ask what exactly it is that’s on his mind before already answering. “Let me show you how pretty you are, baby.” 

There is a certain sparkle inside Tony’s brown orbs; one that Peter knows too well. Pulling his head back, Peter tries his best to give his boyfriend a disapproving look. “Really now, Tony? We only have-”  
  
“-an hour left before Happy will get here.”, the older man finishes, his smirk in place. “That’s plenty of time, don’t you think?” Tony doesn’t have to wait for an answer - he knows exactly what Peter thinks; can tell by the way his pupils have dilated. 

He turns them both in one, swift motion and before Peter can comprehend what exactly is happening, he finds himself facing the mirror, Tony directly behind him. They are so close that he can already feel his boyfriend’s erection press into his lower back. 

This is something new; something exciting and while Peter isn’t the biggest fan of looking at himself, he’s got nothing against looking at Tony and the pleasure that is already etched into the fine lines of his face. 

But apparently, that’s not how they are going to play today.  
  
“No, baby.” Peter’s eyes find Tony’s in the mirror and the older man shakes his head disapprovingly, tongue clicking. “I want you to look at _ your _pretty face so you can see what I’m lucky enough to always watch.” 

“I don’t know-” The protest dies on Peter’s lips, mouth going slack as his boyfriend drops one of his hands to palm his half-hard dick through his expensive suit pants. “Tony.”, he gasps, immediately arching into the light touch; craving more.

Never one to disappoint when it comes to bringing him pleasure, Tony catches on in an instant and swiftly reaches inside the boy’s pants to get a better grip on him. “Don’t worry, Pete. I’ve got you.” His other hand is on Peter’s throat, making sure that he doesn’t let his gaze break away. 

“We’re going to ruin the pants.”, he half-heartedly protests but truth be told, Peter doesn’t actually care about that anymore. Tony’s hand feels too fucking good and watching both of them while the man has his hand down Peter’s pants only highlights his pleasure even further. 

“Doesn’t matter.” It most definitely doesn’t - Tony can buy him a million more and never break a sweat about the money. It’s hilarious, really but Peter finds it a little difficult to laugh with how heavy his breathing is. “You know what matters? How beautiful you look when you’re blushing.” 

Without even noticing, Peter’s gaze focuses on his own face in the mirror. “‘m not.” is what he manages to moan. There is nothing beautiful about how rapidly his chest is rising and falling; how red he’s starting to get. It’s not like when that happens to Tony - now _that _is a beautiful sight but on himself? No. 

“You most certainly are.” He watches Tony lean in and nuzzle at the skin right under his ear where he knows Peter is most sensitive. It works in an instant as warmth starts to spread through his whole body and down to his cock, making it even harder in his boyfriend’s grasp. “Beautiful, that is.” 

Peter is well beyond the point of arguing. It’s not like he’ll get any proper words out; not with the way Tony’s thumb keeps teasing the slit of his cock, smearing his precum all over the tip. All he does is nod and moan. 

“Good. Keep your eyes open, you hear me? You need to watch yourself come, baby.” 

“If you don’t slow down a little, that’s going to happen soon.”, Peter warns, hips thrusting into Tony’s closes fist at a rapid pace. He does his best to keep his eyes opened and focus on his own face, scared that his boyfriend will stop if he doesn’t comply. 

Teeth scrape along his neck, effectively making Peter shudder as Tony licks his way back up to the boy’s ear. “Then do it. Come for me, baby and make sure to look at yourself while you do.” The man’s tongue darts out, coating Peter’s ear for a heartbeat. “That is my only condition.” 

It’s a fair trade, Peter thinks and he makes sure to follow Tony’s instruction as he spills himself into the man’s hand and the now ruined boxers and suit pants. He loses focus a few times, too caught up inside his own orgasm.

Cheeks red, covered in sweat and breathing heavily he makes a truly interesting sight. Whether it’s actually beautiful is still debatable but Tony thinks so and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. 

When he has finally managed to catch his breath and gather his thoughts, Tony is still smiling at him. The man has yet to let go of his spent cock. “What do you think, Pete?”  
  
He laughs and this time, it’s a full sound. “Not bad.” Turning his head lightly, Peter gently nips at Tony’s jaw, not missing the way the erection still being pressed against his back twitches. “But I think it’s only fair that you’ll do the same thing for me now.”

It’s a challenge Peter knows his boyfriend won’t refuse. “Anything for you, baby.” 


End file.
